


Project Nebulae

by gizkas



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Inspired by the Lazarus Project from Mass Effect 2, Multi, Rogue One Spoilers, Rogue One crew as the Knights of Ren, Rotating POVs, Tumblr fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:23:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9076330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gizkas/pseuds/gizkas
Summary: The subject shakes her head. “What happened?”Hux takes a step back. “As I said you were injured.” And smiles. “In service to the First Order.”The subject, who was once called Jyn Erso, stares up at him.“Welcome home, Knight of Ren.”-- A drabble series set in a universe where the First Order revives the crew of Rogue One to become the Knights of Ren.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Premise is a little cracky, but I invoke Rule of Cool. This is going to be a series of drabbles/short stories set in the same universe rather than a linear story. The premise is inspired by Mass Effect 2-- done for the tumblr prompt of "Rogue One crew as Knights of Ren AU"

The archive footage is positively ancient. Grainy images flood the space between him and the Supreme Leader, spots from old dust eating into the footage and the feed occasionally flickers. Truth be told, Hux doesn’t have the slightest idea as to why the Supreme Leader would call a personal meeting for what appears to be a night at the holos watching rebel scum propaganda. 

 

A woman in a green vest runs forward, holding the hand of a man in a tan shirt. In her hand is an old data file. Sand sprays up around them.

 

“Do you recognize this beach?” The Supreme Leader wonders.

 

Hux’s lips press together. The holo moves to a new scene--he watches as an AT-AT Walker charges through trees, two men running away from its front.

 

“Scarif?” He ventures.

 

“Correct. Observant as always, General.”

 

It’s hardly observation, something they’re both aware of. A First Order exploratory committee had just located the ruins of old Imperial data storage facility. It had been a cause for celebration for their research and development teams. Still, Hux was always receptive toward compliments--particularly ones given to him by the Supreme Leader.

 

“Thank you, Supreme Leader.”

 

“Look at them,” the Supreme Leader does not appear to have heard his gratitude. Instead, his eyes are focused on the images before them. Hux dispassionately watches.

 

There’s an Imperial droid, slamming its arms into a console and triggering an explosion.

A young Imperial pilot, crouched behind shipping crates and looking up at the sky.

The woman, again. This time in a black uniform.

 

“There was no likelihood of survival for this mission,” Snoke rattles. “They entered knowing there would be no return.”

 

A man, one of the two running from the walker, steps out into a combat zone. His hands press a staff to his chest. He is mouthing something, but the holo has no sound and Hux does not have the inclination to take up lip reading.

 

“What is it…” Snoke’s voice is distant. “...that can make such crude matter perform extraordinary measures?”

 

The man in the tan shirt holds the woman to his chest. They sink onto their knees in the sand.

 

“Supreme Leader?” Hux makes sure his question is soft. He does not want to seem...impertinent. But he  _ does  _ want to reach a point to whatever this exercise may be.

 

“The First Order is in need of specialists.”

 

Hux bristles. “We have the Stormtroopers-”

 

“And they will serve their purpose. But there is a need for more _. _ ” Snoke leans forward. “There is a need for  _ Knights. _ ”

 

“Knights?”

 

“Those who can lead a cause.” Snoke evaluates Hux carefully; he makes sure to remain carefully neutral. “Those who can  _ be  _ the cause.” 

 

“People like these....” his upper lip curls. “ _ Rebels,  _ sir?”

 

“What greater weapon is there, than to turn an enemy to your cause?”

 

He hates to say the obvious. However… “They’re. Dead, certainly?”

 

“Yes. But such things are of little consequence to the will of the First Order.” Snoke steeples his fingers. “Just as you have made my army, Hux, you will form my templars.”

 

Hux’s eyes dart to the holo.

 

The couple in the sand. Holding each other until the edges of the image rattle and go impossibly bright.

The man with the staff lying supine. Another man staring at him as an explosion cuts the scene.

The pilot looking at a detonator roll into a cargo hauler.

 

“ _ These  _ men, sir?”

 

“You dare to question me?”

 

“N-no. Of course not, Supreme Leader.”

 

“Your labs have their instructions. See that it is done.”

 

Hux bows. “It will be done.”

 

Snoke makes a dismissive wave of his hand. Hux pivots and makes for the exit of the audience chamber. The door parts open, and he steps through.

 

“You underestimate the power of faith,” Snoke warns as the door shuts behind him.

 

Hux stands outside the chamber. There’s only a moment of hesitance, before he tugs back the edge of his glove, and strides forward to the development wing. 

 

What he underestimates has no consequence.

Because apparently all he has to do is bring back the dead.

 

\--

 

The one called Chirrut Imwe is the easiest to reconstruct. Of the excavated remains, there is the most of him. Hair, teeth. Even bone. The members of Project Nebulae see him as a baseline for the procedures-- it is with him they finetune the process deemed only academic previously. The remains are placed into kolto, spliced with cybernetic technology exclusive only to  _ his  _ men.

 

(later, the product reveals the novelty of its process: the subject is blind-- a condition not shared by the others. But it is one Hux assumes is a small price to pay for a miracle of science)

 

The Project’s database coins this creation The Monk.

 

\--

 

Next is the body they find nearest to it. This one they call The Warrior.

 

\--

 

They hit a production block with The Pilot. The body was seemingly resistant to the initial programming.   
  


It is circumnavigated, soon enough.

 

\--

 

The Spy and The Rogue are nearly failures before they begin. Of those on Scarif’s beaches, they left the least behind. If not for the DNA traces scraped from what appeared to be a kyber crystal, it would have been an impossible endeavor.

 

Even so, their forms are more reliant on cybernetics than the others.

 

\--

 

The droid is lost forever. There is no DNA to find. Nothing to reconstruct. However, as Hux knows Snoke will not accept excuses, he has a team begin reviewing the archival footage and documenting mannerisms; quirks. It is feasible that they can reprogram a new droid in a near likeness.

 

\--

 

It takes four years.

 

\--

 

“The work is complete as you commanded, Supreme Leader.”

 

“But?”

 

“I-” he clears his throat. “That is,  _ science,  _ has its limits.” Hux looks up. “There is no way to guarantee the subjects of Project Nebulae are those you-”

 

“There is no limit to  _ me,  _ Hux. Nor the Force. Continue forward as planned.”

 

He bites the inside of his cheek. Bows. “Of course, Supreme Leader.”

 

\--

 

Subject 6 opens its eyes first.

 

Hux watches impassively from the other side of the kolto tank, hands clasped lightly in the small of his back. The subject is hooked to a breathing apparatus, unable to vocalize even if they were not submerged in the healing fluid.

 

It startles. A hand flings out, sluggishly prying at the constraints which hold it in place as they tilt their head back and attempt to orientate.

 

To his left, Hux’s team tracks its vitals. Its eye movements. Everything is documented, analyzed on the spot. 

 

First step to the protocol: Cognition.

 

Hux clears his throat. “Nod if you can understand me.”

 

The subject halts in its thrashing. Hesitantly, it nods, a curl of brown hair slinking over its features.

 

Good. Second step to the protocol: Script.

 

“You are at a First Order facility. There was a battle, you were badly injured in service--we rescued you, and brought you here for treatment.” He strides forward, head shaking just so in what he aims to be a friendly gesture. “You are no longer in any danger.”

 

Step three…

 

He looks at one of his technicians. “Drain the tank.”

 

She nods, pressing a button on a nearby console. There is a muted buzz, before the kolto starts to pull toward the center of the tank. It lowers, gradually bringing the subject to the floor of the containment tube. Once the kolto is cleared, the subject collapses on the ground, back heaving.

 

“Remove the apparati.”

 

The technician keys another command. The support systems retract, leaving only a cowering body that is coughing violently.

 

“Lower the casing.”

 

It hisses, sliding away. Soon there is no barrier between them. Hux strides forward. He does not like to touch it, but it is necessary for the acclimation. His fingertips barely press down on its-- _ her _ \--shoulders.

 

“Do you remember your name?” He asks gently.

 

The subject looks up, still breathing heavily. Her green eyes are narrowed in confusion, lips parted from the air she’s trying to collect.

 

“I-” she coughs. Hux withdraws his fingers.

 

The subject shakes her head. “How did I…” She lifts a hand to her temple. “What happened?”

 

Hux takes a step back. “As I said you were injured.”

 

And smiles.

 

“In service to the First Order.”

 

The subject, who was once called Jyn Erso, stares up at him.

 

“Welcome home, Knight of Ren.”


End file.
